


Found

by SkyOfSunAndStars



Category: True Detective
Genre: M/M, Not Beta Read, Pre-Slash, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 19:45:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5838559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyOfSunAndStars/pseuds/SkyOfSunAndStars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marty thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Found

**Author's Note:**

> Not Beta read. All mistakes are my own. Enjoy!

Marty hadn't seen Rustin Cohle for years and he didn't know what to do. The past week had been a stressful one, even he had to admit that. What with those two nosy buggers coming in and asking shit about Rust and the old case. Jesus, Marty hadn't seen rust in years what was he supposed to know?

And to add another pile of shit on the cake that was beginning to look like Marty’s life, just thinking about Rust had bought up painful memories. The last time Marty had seen him, the fight, and how angry he had been. Most people had thought that he had been angry at Rust, and sure he had. How could he not have been? Rust had just slept with his wife for Jesus sake. But in reality he had been angry at himself. He had gone and fucked over his life just like that. 

But he had also been confused. About the feelings that had been developing for Rust. And Jesus, Marty wasn't no pansy ass either so where the hell were they God damn coming from? They hadn't abated over the years either. He still cared for Rust like he hadn't cared for anyone else in years. He hadn't seen that bastard for years neither. He refused to call it love, he wasn't even sure it was love anyways, for God sakes he was a grown ass man. 

But whenever he thought back to the little things that Rust did, it made this tiny bit of warmth curl its tendrils around his heart. When Rust would start spouting that random philosophical shit around him Marty would pretend to hate it. And in some ways he did. For a start it gave him the willies, the shit that he talked about. But what Rust spoke about? That was the essence of him and Marty loved it.

The way that Rust would faze out when he was crouching down to sketch something at a crime scene, his lean body curled in an almost protective manner around the log. Sketching in such a focused manner that practically no-one could rouse him, except for Marty of course. 

No one ever saw him, but Mary knew for a fact that Rust liked sketching other things too, the rabbit that was foraging in the bush over there, the laughing face of a child enjoying ice-cream. Marty had even caught Rust sketching him once. 

Mary sighed, finished the finger of Whiskey an pulled himself to his feet. He didn't even know where to start looking for Rust. But he also knew one other thing. Rust would find him.

Fin.


End file.
